


Coffee and Booze

by rhealoveless



Series: that one where they go to a women's college [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, I mean that kind of goes without saying since it's Bahorel and Feuilly, Swearing, but I thought I should mention it, fun times, oh yeah also, um yeah that's pretty much it just Bahorel plus Feuily plus alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2727860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhealoveless/pseuds/rhealoveless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bahorel's friends are jerks who wander off without her and then don't answer their phones</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffee and Booze

"Answer your fucking phones already, asswipes," Bahorel muttered to herself, before angrily jabbing the end button. She shoved her phone into her jeans pocket and glared at the empty street. They were supposed to meet up here at 1:00, and here she was, 1:15, still all alone, because apparently her friends didn't care enough to make sure, you know, that she could get home.

Which she couldn't.

She wasn't really sure what part of the city she was even in, just that it was frat party from--MIT? Harvard? God, she couldn't even tell the pretentious rich white boys apart anymore. And now she was stuck in who-knows-what part of the city, and they wouldn't answer their fucking phones. And she was pretty sure she was drunk, too, since she kept on tripping over things in her way and she never tripped on anything.

Bahorel clenched her hands into tight fists, and reminded herself not to cry, that she could find her way home; she could always call a taxi, right? Not that she could really afford that; all the money she earned at her library job went straight to tuition. She picked a direction and started walking, because there must be a T stop around here somewhere, right?

***

Feuilly supposed he should be used to seeing drunk college kids stumbling around the city by now, but really he hadn't seen one quite like this girl before. She was on the smaller side, probably barely over 100lbs, but she was covered in tattoos. He suspected she was Native American, but her hair was dyed dark green and half shaved off. Judging by the way she held herself, he thought she probably was a fighter, too, though certainly not in the shape she was in. He supposed he should probably help her before she got hurt.

He crossed the road, and called out, "Hey!"

She spun around, her fists coming up and her back foot landing into a defensive position. She almost fell over. "Back off!" she shouted.

Feuilly instantly raised his hands up and stopped moving. "Sorry," he said. "I was going to ask if you were lost."

Her hands loosened, and she tipped her head slightly to the side.

"Can you get home alright? No offense, but you seem pretty drunk."

The girl grinned. "I'm very drunk. Also lost. Very lost."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Feuilly muttered. He cautiously walked forward again, and when Bahorel didn't react, he came to her side. "How much did you even drink?"

She shrugged. "I dunno, a couple glasses."

"A couple glasses of what?" he asked. The girl didn't look much older than 18.

She shrugged.

"Well, that's great," he muttered. "What's your name?"

"Bahorel," she answered.

"All right, then, Bahorel, where is your home? I'm hoping you still remember that?"

Bahorel nodded. "If you get me to the T, I can get home from there," she said.

Feuilly raised an eyebrow. "The T isn't running anymore," he said. "Didn't you know that? It closes at, like, 1."

"What?"

"The last train's already left by now, probably already stopped. You can't get on anymore."

"Oh."

"Where are you trying to go?" he asked again.

"Wellesley," she answered. "But it's not in Boston; I can't get there without the T."

"I work in Wellesley," Feuilly answered. "If you don't think I'm too sketchy, you could crash at my place tonight, then take the commuter rail with me tomorrow, when I go into work."

Bahorel considered for a moment, then nodded. "If you don't mind," she said.

"It's fine," Feuilly said. "God knows I've crashed at strangers' apartments before."

***

Bahorel's head was pounding, which was odd, because she hadn't had a hangover since junior prom but now here she was in some stranger's apartment, with said stranger shaking her.

"Bahorel, wake up, I have to go," Feuilly said. Bahorel groaned and pulled her sheets over her head.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, it's early, but I have to go."

Bahorel sighed deeply and stumbled off of the couch, her sore muscles protesting every movement. It was dark outside. "Wha' time is it?" she asked sleepily.

"4:30," Feuilly said.

"What?" Bahorel asked indignantly. "4:30 in the morning? Why are you up this early that was like--like--2 hours of sleep."

"Yeah," Feuilly said. "Tell me about it. You're probably still drunk."

Bahorel shook her head.

"Fine, you're not drunk. Whatever. I have to leave, though, so come on." He turned around started putting his shoes on without waiting for Bahorel to reply, so she just followed him, stumbling slightly through the dimly lit apartment.

She fell asleep on the commuter rail, her head falling onto Feuilly's shoulder. He shook her gently at their stop, and led her, blinking, into the sun.

"You know your way from here?" he asked. Bahorel looked around and, recognizing the street, nodded.

He smiled, and said, "All right, then. Nice to meet you. If you ever want to catch up, I own the coffee place just around that corner. You should come sometime."

"Yeah," Bahorel said. "Sometime when I'm awake and sober."

Feuilly laughed, and walked off. Bahorel smiled softly for a long moment before heading back to the school. 

She wondered if her friends were in their rooms, and if banging on their doors was warranted revenge for them forgetting her.

**Author's Note:**

> haha wow this turned out weird. The T actually does close at like 1-2am and it's super frustrating if you're trying to get anywhere, but it's total bullshit that you wouldn't be able to get home if you couldn't afford a cab shh it's fiction. Also ignore whatever mistakes I make writing about Wellesley I wasn't going to name the college so I could just gesture vaguely but I kinda had to so if you go to Wellesley please don't hate me for making things up.


End file.
